Funny Man
by Loki Iago Baelish
Summary: Lord Stark and Petyr Baelish finally get a chance to talk, alone.    WARNINGS: M/M, asphyxiation, spanking, oral and anal sex, masturbation, rimming, and some fluff.  I don't own these characters/locations.
1. Chapter 1

Ned was fuming. He didn't care how clever it was; hiding Catelyn in a whorehouse was more an insult and an insinuation than he could bear. How Baelish' throat had felt between his fingers…how this life-long nuisance of a man had gasped and wriggled. But then was not a time for vengeance. Not in front of his wife. But now.

He climbed up the steps inside the brothel, searching for the main room where he had seen Littlefinger last. Now was a perfect time to show him what happens to even the noblest men when you push them too long and too far. Ned rounded the last corner and saw him seated in the centre of the room, surrounded by documents and pens. Petyr's hazel eyes didn't even look up.

"Come back to make another bastard, Lord Stark?" he asked politely. "Give me the briefest moment to finish this last ledger and I'm sure I could find you—"

Ned had by now approached the desk and was done suffering Littlefinger's banalities. With one brush of the arm, Eddard swept every paper and quill off onto the floor. That seemed to get the smaller man's attention. His eyes widened only for an instant but that flash of fear was all Ned needed. The Lord of Winterfell put a hand on the desk, almost touching Petyr's own hand as it still clung to the pen he had been writing with. He leaned over Littlefinger, his eyes boring down into those sneering grey ones and showing him just who was going to be in charge of this meeting.

Littlefinger never broke the stare. He even broke a tiny smile. Truth be told, he enjoyed seeing Ned like this. He enjoyed the heat and fury radiating off him so hot he could feel it where their hands almost touched.

"Perhaps not then?" he raised a playful eyebrow.

"No," Eddard concurred. "It's you I'm more interested in at the present."

"My, Ned," Littlefinger fained a blush. "What shall we tell Catelyn?"

The blow was swift and left a _crack_ that echoed dully through the room. Petyr put a hand involuntarily to the cheek that Stark had struck. He barely had time to register the sting when Ned put a hand around the back of his neck and yanked him upward out of his chair, their faces close.

"That is the last time you'll speak of my wife, do you understand?" he growled. The pain, the rough grip around his throat…Petyr felt dizzy. Ned's fingers clenched slightly, his nails digging into Littlefinger's soft, porcelain skin. "You'd do well to answer me when I ask you a question, Lord Baelish."

Their eyes were locked. Petyr's lips opened a moment in silence before he regained some composure. "Yes," he said. "Of course."

But Ned did not release him. Petyr found that his hands had gone up to Ned's wrist, only miming a struggle. Not having the upper hand was something he was unfamiliar with—except when it came to the Starks. They had been the only ones to ever best him. That was going to change, he decided. This time, he'd get what he wanted.

He moved his face closer to Eddard's and that old sneer had returned to his lips. "You know," he whispered. "It was never really Catelyn I wanted to impress at that tourniment."

What?

Littlefinger saw the thought process behind Ned's eyes and he ran with it. He delicately traced one of his fingers up and down Ned's wrist until the grip around the back of his neck loosened slightly. "It was you, you know. I mean please," he scoffed. "I own three whorehouses and have no wife. Do you think I'm interested, even intrigued by women anymore? No, Lord Stark," he said, his voice now husky and soft as he looked the larger man up and down. "It's always been you."

Ned could say nothing. If it was a lie, if it was true hardly mattered. He let go of Littlefinger and started to walk away. He was finished with the man's bullshit for now. But Petyr wasn't finished. Baelish thought a moment.

"Even if I wasn't infatuated with you, I'm done chasing that Tully around." Petyr waited for a reaction but Ned's stride did not break. "I mean, when you break their maidenhead, bedding becomes somewhat of a bore afterwards." Ned stopped dead and Petyr did his best to hide his smile. He saw Ned take a deep breath then continue for the door. "Truth be told, I'm not even sure it was me that did it. She seemed so experienced," Petyr continued. "So forceful when she sucked my cock, oh how she knew just what—"

Ned spun around and lunged at him. They crashed onto the desk and the slap Petyr had felt before was nothing compared to the full-fisted punch he received now. He did his best to ebb Eddard's blows but it seemed nothing was stopping him…except when Petyr fought the only way he knew how. In between punches, Littlefinger arched his neck so that he planted a kiss right on Ned's mouth.

TO BE CONTINUED.


	2. Chapter 2

Warmth…prickles from both men's facial hair made a soft brushing sound and there was just warmth. The first kiss was short, Petyr retreating quickly to see if the blows were to commence but Ned was frozen. They looked at each other, both panting and sweating from the struggle. Ned felt a sharp hardness grow underneath him where his crotch was atop Petyr's and he wasn't sure at first whose hardon he was feeling until he realized it was a joint effort.

Littlefinger reached up gingerly and stroked down Eddard's cheek, tilting his head slightly before kissing him again. He sucked Ned's bottom lip, nibbling gently and giving it a soft flick of the tongue. He heard Ned inhale deeply. Petyr grinned and kissed him full on the mouth once more as he slid an arm around Ned's shoulders and caressed his back. Suddenly Eddard remembered himself.

He started to push himself off Littlefinger when the other man wrapped his legs around Eddard and held him tightly.

"Oh go on Ned," he whispered as he kissed from Ned's temple to his ear to his jaw. Lord Stark couldn't suppress a groan. "Teach me a lesson like you were going to." He guided Ned's hand down from his shoulder to the side of his ass. Petyr gasped with pleasure at the speed with which Ned gave it an almost clenching squeeze. "Oh go on!" he repeated, eyes closing as he leaned his head back.

Eddard didn't know why he wanted to so much…he found himself trying to justify why he should go along with it. _He won't enjoy it after a while,_ was one excuse. _Not if you do it hard enough. Then he'll see._

He reeled his hand back and gave Littlefinger's ass a hard smack. Petyr's hips thrust hard up into Ned's as his mouth gaped open.

"Yes," he breathed, yanking Ned's face back towards his own and passionately French kissing him. Their tongues wetly caressed one another and even Eddard had begun to moan by that point. Oh no…no this wasn't working. But Ned was no stranger to giving into pleasure despite himself. Blinded by the heat between their thighs, Ned finally gave in.

"Maybe that is what you need," Ned growled. Petyr bit his lip and nodded with boyish sheepishness, but the sparkle in his eyes let Ned know better. "Yes," Ned said. "Without doubt."

He flipped Petyr over so his round, tight ass was perched over his knee. Littlefinger felt so helpless underneath such a big man's strong arm…and he loved it. Ned rubbed the seat of Littlefinger's pants a moment before he began spanking the hell out of him. Again and again he raised his rough, large hand and brought it slapping down onto Petyr's ass. The smaller man cried out each time, his voice trembling more with each smack…much like something else between his legs. Each time he felt that harsh sting across his ass, his hips thrust harder against Ned's lap until he was practically dry humping Eddard.

"Ow…oh, ow," he moaned ecstatically. "Oh it hurts, Ned…" Eddard smiled and spanked harder until Petyr was writhing so hard it was hard to keep his aim steady. The way he moved was bloody near poetry to Ned.

"Think that's enough for one lesson," Ned smirked. Petyr was panting. His ass burned so badly but he wanted more even worse. He nearly pounced onto Ned.

Before long they were both ripping at each other's garments, Littlefinger getting their first and taking a firm grip of Ned's cock.

"Fuck me," he insisted breathily as he stroked it up and down that long, thick shaft to the moist, hot tip.

Foreplay was one thing. Maybe even kissing and the long looks they were giving each other. But making love? Ned wasn't sure he could do that, even if he wanted to—no, no he definitely wouldn't want to…not even with the way Petyr was looking at him now, eyes big with an attempt at innocence as his smirk never left him. Not even with Littlefinger's lips nearing his cock, so close Ned could feel the bristle of his moustache against his hot, ready skin. Petyr started to lick him. Just a few, tentative flicks of the tongue at first but it was enough.

Ned leaned back and let his back arch as Petyr engulfed him into his mouth. Such a talented tongue he had too. It circled his cock delicately before firmly lapping it up the sides from base to tip. And the noises he made…moans of delight and pleasure as if Ned's cock was the most delicious treat in all the Seven Kingdoms.

"Oh," he kept purring. "Oh Ned…fuck me…"

Finally, when Ned was seconds away from letting himself climax, he decided to give Petyr what he wanted.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	3. Chapter 3

Ned gaped down at him, becoming aware of what they'd done. Of what he'd done. He pushed himself off Petyr and scrambled to clothe himself, but his hands shook so violently the knot of his belt kept coming undone. Petyr tutted and sat up, going to Ned while still naked as the day he was born.

"Let me do it," he said like an affectionately irritated mother as he tied the knot. Ned flinched as the smaller man's pale, nimble fingers tiptoed up to begin redoing the buttons on Eddard's shirt. "There," he said, tracing a finger up from the top button to softly stroke the line of Ned's jaw. Eddard felt himself stop breathing as his eyes closed.

He remembered himself.

"Stop," he said softly but firmly, taking hold of Littlefinger's hand and casting it aside. "We will never speak of this," he informed him. "And we certainly will never repeat this…mistake."

Petyr's brow furrowed for an instant, but it was enough that Ned caught it. Lord Baelish then cast his eyes down and cleared his throat. "As you wish."

They stood in silence a moment before Petyr turned back to his pile of forgotten clothes and dressed himself. Ned didn't know why he wasn't out the door already but something about the look Littlefinger had, even so briefly, made him feel like an egg shattered in his chest. His eyes had been soft and confused, and that was it, that confusion that Eddard had never seen on his face before. Sadness, disappointment. Those emotions playing in those big, grey eyes were almost enough to make Ned feel guilty.

Petyr threw his head over a shoulder and noted: "You're still here. Will my lord be requiring anything else?" He spoke coldly now, not angry, but as if his words were carved into stone rather than pushed into the air.

Ned took a step towards him, outstretching a big, warm hand of his to clasp Petyr's shoulder. Littlefinger twirled around and lithely evaded Ned's grasp. He looked at the Lord of Winterfell and forced a little laugh.

"Catelyn will be missing you, I'm sure."

"She can wait."

The words escaped him before he knew they were on his mind. Petyr raised an eyebrow and a smirk came to his lips. At the same time it annoyed him, that sneer had a strangely reassuring, or at least familiar, effect on Ned. Eddard smiled—until he saw something that made his heart stop. He saw a thin streak going down one of Petyr's cheeks, so small it would have been invisible if not for that exact flicker of candlelight. But Ned saw it. He went to Petyr and took both shoulders in his hands, holding him tight. Littlefinger squirmed, forcing his gaze anywhere but him until Ned took his chin between two fingers and lifted his head so their eyes met.

"I wasn't lying you know," was all Lord Baelish was able to say, even those syllables clogged by emotion.

"About…" Ned put it together. "About it being me you wanted all this time?"

Littlefinger nodded, biting his lip and breathing heavily. Ned's eyes bore into him but he could not find it in himself to look back. Finally, when he did, it was only a second before Ned leaned in and placed a single, soft, melting kiss on his lips. Petyr heard himself whimper with pleasure and he felt Ned smile.

"I thought," Littlefinger grinned, pulling away teasingly, "you said never again?"

"Bite your tongue for once," Eddard said before licking from Petyr's ear down his jaw to his adam's apple. Littlefinger gasped and clenched his arms around Ned as he felt that same heat between his legs come back.

Ned kissed his earlobe, tickling Baelish with his beard, then nibbled it. He slid his tongue around where his jaw met his neck and kissed the sweet spot under Petyr's chin, Littlefinger panting and moaning all the while. Then Ned bit. He bit down hard where Littlefinger's neck and shoulder met, making Petyr cry out. A deep red mark emerged when Ned was done and it was all Petyr could do to not moan his name over and over again, though he was whispering it frequently enough.

Ned put his arms under Littlefinger's tender ass and hoisted him up onto the desk, kissing him and stroking his thighs. Petyr took one of Ned's hands and put it on his neck.

"Choke me," he ordered the larger man. "Like you did before, go on." Ned stared at him an instant but when Petyr cocked his head and sneered in a dare, how could he not? He placed a hand around his throat and squeezed, gently at first, then sharply contracting his fingers as to make Littlefinger throw his head back and gasp.

"Oh…" he moaned, feeling his hips thrust upward despite himself. When Ned stopped they kissed deeply once more. "You're so good," he couldn't help say.

"Speaking of good," Eddard said with a lick of his lips and a glance downward. Petyr looked at him, not believing his ears. Ned put his face right in Petyr's and returned Littlefinger's trademark smirk.

"Let's see how you taste."


	4. Chapter 4

Petyr looked up into Ned's eyes and for once he was speechless. He watched the Lord of Winterfell smile as he knelt down in front of him, gently opening Petyr's thighs and placing his scratchy face between them. Lord Baelish closed his eyes and felt his head lean back as Ned gently massaged his legs, kissing up them from the sweet spot under his knee to the inner most part of his thigh. His mouth opened yet no sound came out. He clutched at Ned's hair and tried to pull his face closer to his throbbing, wanton cock. But Ned pulled back and grinned up at him, shaking a finger.

"Now, now," he tutted playfully, grabbing Littlefinger's cock with his other hand and tugging it up and down. Lord Baelish almost fell back with surprise and the sweetness of the sensation. Ned's palm was warm and thick, its movements hard but gentle and methodic. With his thumb, Ned gently rubbed Littlefinger's tip and sent him into a gasp.

Littlefinger was panting, mouth gaping open and hands grasping wildly at anything that could anchor him from floating off or exploding in his pleasure. But then it stopped. Ned let go of his member and resumed his teasing licking and kissing. He would lick from his knee to right above his knee, then repeat and add just a half-inch more, then repeat, to the point where his moist, rough tongue was tickling Petyr's cock. Then up, just past the base…

"Oh get on with it!" Littlefinger cried out, laughing half with joy but half with hormone-driven hysteria. He thrusted upwards, towards Ned's opened lips and despite what even Petyr thought was going to happen, Ned allowed his cock into his mouth. Ned kept a firm hold of Petyr's thighs and would push him down any time he tried to sit up, or swat away a hand any time he tried to grab Ned's hair or shoulders. It sent Petyr crazy and Ned knew it. Well, Ned thought, the man deserve to writhe a bit didn't he?

He swallowed Petyr into his mouth, against his flat and hot tongue. He devoured him with his lips, kissing and sucking at Petyr's tip whenever Ned went up for air. He moaned into Littlefinger's thrusts and every so often would slide Petyr out of his mouth so he could give one of his thighs a nice, hard bite. Petyr would yelp but before he even finished making the sound, it would evaporate back into moans so loud they were almost screams at some points.

"Hush now," Ned even had to say once. "Keep making this much of a racket and we'll have to find you a gag."

"Oh wouldn't that be a shame," Littlefinger chuckled softly.

"Hush," Ned repeated, harsher than before as he gave Petyr's thigh a slap. Littlefinger gave a soft coo of pain before thrusting back between Ned's dripping lips.

It wasn't long before Littlefinger could hardly stand it anymore. His grunts became more frequent, his hips thumped up and down so hard he almost fell onto Ned's shoulders, and his moans turned into bellowing shouts of: "Ned! Oh…gods…gods, Ned! Ned! Ne—ahhh…ahh!"

With one final cry, Petyr's hips flew up and Ned felt a pad of steaming, salty fluid hit the back of his tongue. He spat it back onto Littlefinger's cock then licked it clean, massaging Petyr's rock hard member back into its normal state.

"So much for never again," Petyr couldn't help but say as he lie there sweating and panting.

Ned wiped off the remaining cum from his beard and hand onto a rag. He was looking far away, no longer in the room mentally.

Petyr sat up and shook his head, taking a deep breath. "No one will know, be assured," he told Ned, who didn't even bother looking up. Littlefinger put a hand on his shoulder. "Ned?"

Ned swatted his hand off gruffly and stood up. "That's 'Lord Stark,'" he said vacantly.

Littlefinger raised his eyebrows and looked at the floor. "…As you say, my Lord." He too rose and clothed himself once more. "If there's nothing else, I'll be in my chambers awaiting our next…council."

With that, Petyr walked off. Ned stood in the room, gazing at the ghosts of what had just come to pass. He saw himself doing those things and saying what he said, but he couldn't believe it had been him. He sat on the desk, still wet with Petyr's bodyheat. What was he going to do?

TO BE CONTINUED…


	5. Chapter 5

Ned wandered the halls of King's Landing, a few greetings offered out to him but he heard nothing. His mind was lost in a maelstrom of regret and anticipation—though anticipation for what? What he and Littlefinger had done no one could know about and loathed if he was going to allow himself to do it again. But there was something about it that was so different. As Ned made his way into his bedchamber, he made sure he was alone and locked the door behind him before sitting on his bed.

Ned had been with two women before in his life. His Lady Catelyn had been the first and only until Jon's mother. But neither had felt like anything more than duty or a mechanical sort of briefest pleasure. With Petyr… With Petyr it had been full of all-enveloping surges of desire and warmth, with every second feeling so wonderful Ned had wished they would each take a life-age. No.

No he couldn't let himself keep thinking like that. Catelyn, he thought furiously, think on Catelyn. The time he'd had with her, the comfort of their shared bed—comfort? No, Ned told himself, the passion. The passion of their shared…ah but that was a lie. Catelyn loved him, just as he loved her, but her dampness was never for him. She had always closed her eyes even when he was hardly touching her. Ned knew her fantasies were elsewhere. With his older, late brother perhaps. Or Pety—

Ned stopped dead in his tracks. Could it be both he and Catelyn had secret desires for Petyr Baelish? Oh the sneer that would cross Petyr's face if he knew. The sort of sneer that was practically begging to be wiped off with a nice hard bite to the neck. Ned covered his face in his hands. It was useless to try and not think on him. To try and not wonder what it would feel like to enter him like a woman, or to be entered by him. Ned had never considered the latter before. The idea of it brought a tingling spark between his legs. He involuntarily looked around the room once more before he undid his breaches.

The first moment was an internal battle so strong he almost lost the bulge he now held firmly with one hand. Eventually, the fantasies won and the inhibitions took a back seat to the throbbing lust he was tugging up and down. What would it be like to be on his back, his legs thrown to either side and to have Petyr above him and in him? For their faces to be so close Petyr would kiss him every once and again in between his sharp, violent thrusts.

Baelish was small, but what strength he lacked in any fighting arena he would make up for in bed. His hips would crash against Ned's ass, lightning quick and harder than Ned could take. But he would. Ned would revel in getting fucked like that, and to see the panting smile that would shine across Littlefinger's face. Ned would gasp and groan as Petyr would smile and let out sighs of contentment. Petyr would pound into him and Ned would feel the man's cock flaming hot inside him, but it would be the sort of pain he would want forever. He'd grab Petyr's thighs and bring him in even tighter while Petyr moaned his name.

Ned had liked that quite a bit. "Ned," Petyr would pur. "Oh Ned…"

The Lord of Winterfell's hand was leaping up and down as he tugged himself closer and closer to climax. His fingers were sprinkled with precum already and he knew he was seconds away.

Ned would reach around Littlefinger and give his ass a good smack, which would make the other man gasp before he began really giving it to Ned. Petyr would be close, his eyes clenched shut as his mouth hung open.

"Ned!" he would cry, his voice high with panting and effort soon to be rewarded. Ned wouldn't be able to stop smiling as he saw Petyr cry out one last, wailing time before collapsing onto Ned's chest.

Ned groaned. Suppressing the moan behind his tongue was unbearable as his seed shot out onto the floor in a shocking burst. He fell back onto the bed and breathed deep as relief took him. He thought of holding Petyr to his chest as the smaller man dozed off into slumber, his soft face against Ned's furry chest. Ned's rough, Northern skin caressing and protecting Baelish' smooth, pale body. Ned would make sure nothing ever made Petyr weep again. That nothing would hurt him and that he would never give Catelyn or that tournament a second's thought ever ag—

Catelyn.

It was like a bad dream he kept waking up to. But, Ned realized slowly, Catelyn was miles away. She knew what happened when husbands and wives were parted, and this time it was certain no bastard was to come out of the arrangement. Ned shook his head. Best worry about this all tomorrow, he thought as he tucked himself into bed. Bad idea to think on a seed-spilled mind.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Ned found himself strangely at ease. The thoughts and deeds of yesterday glazed over him as he ate his breakfast in peaceful silence, gazing out the window onto the landscape that seemed to him suddenly so much more filled with beauty and serenity. It was as if his infidelity had been a passing dream that, once awoken from, faded out of memory. That was, of course, until his gaze cast itself onto the coast. The rolling grey-green waves that made him so much happier than they did before suddenly revealed their true identity to his mind. It was not the waves, it was how closely their hue resembled Petyr Baelish's eyes. The sun shining down, reflecting like mischievous gleams he had grown so fond of in the glances of this other man. No woman had made him feel this way. Not Jon's mother, not Catelyn. Not even in fantasies where he'd imagined bedding any woman he wanted. Never had a smile stuck on his face and heart for so long.

He set his dishes aside and knew he had two choices. Either to leave King's Landing or to put his guilt out of his mind. And how would he do that? All he knew is that he was walking down the corridors all of a sudden, letting his legs guide him to a black mahogany door where he knocked twice. He heard a hushed rustling before a few bare footsteps were heard and a groggy voice answered through the wood:

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Ned smiled, loving Petyr's voice when it adopted this bratty tone. "Half past nine, Lord Baelish?"

There was silence for a moment before the door creaked open just ajar enough for Ned to see Littlefinger rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes while his bedhead remained in perfect disarray. "I run three whorehouses, Lord Stark. For me, nine o'clock is as early as sunrise."

They smiled at one another before Petyr subtly ushered Ned inside. He closed the door not one second before Eddard Stark wrapped his arms around him from behind and sprinkled his neck in kisses. Lord Baelish's mouth flew open, a soft purr escaping his lips before he reached behind him and tried to undo Ned's belt. But Ned stopped him, spinning him around and taking his chin between two strong fingers.

"I've been beside myself," he confessed in a low growl. "I can't stop thinking about you."

Petyr raised his eyebrows, pleased with himself. "There's a solution to that I would normally suggest, you know."

"I know," Eddard said, turning Petyr around once more and this time, throwing him bent over the bed. Petyr looked coyly over his shoulder, daring Ned to make the next move. Ned took his time, taking short and deliberate strides towards the perfect ass being presented to him. He knelt behind Petyr, whose eyes had clenched shut and whose tongue was eagerly running across his lips. Ned grabbed Petyr's sleep-trousers and yanked them down around the smaller man's ankles before beginning to caress his pale, smooth skin. He saw gooseflesh appear on Littlefinger's thighs and couldn't suppress a smirk. He took his powerful hands and gently spread Petyr's ass, taking his rough, warm tongue and sliding it up.

Petyr cried out, shocked into making the kind of sound he had only heard from whores' mouths. But Ned didn't stop. His tongue ran up, down, hard, and in little, hot circles. Littlefinger clenched his sheets so hard that his knuckles soon turned white. His jaw ached from the effort it took to not scream with the shame and ecstasy Lord Stark was giving him. Ned squeezed and rubbed Petyr's ass and kept his tongue at work until Petyr was sure he was about to burst when Ned found his own pleasure was calling him. He put a hand down on the small of Lord Baelish's back, letting him know he wasn't going anywhere...not until Ned was finished with him. He undid his breaches and slicked his cock with a spit-moistened palm before shoving himself into that beautiful ass.

Littlefinger thought he had known pain, he thought he had known pleasure. He was wrong on both accounts. This was like nothing he had ever been able to imagine. It burned, it stung, it brought tears to his eyes...but there was no place in Westeros he would have rather been. Ned gripped him firmly by the hips as he thrust into him, the force of him almost blinding. Ned moaned despite his best efforts at silence; it felt too good. How wet, warm, and tight Littlefinger's ass was as it clenched around his cock with each fleshy shove. Ned was trying to be gentle, he could only imagine what it must feel like, but he couldn't keep a hold on himself. He was soon pounding into Petyr as hard as he could, until the whole bed was shaking and squeaking as loudly as Petyr.

His shrieks were muffled by the pillow he had grabbed to his face. The things he was shouting, he didn't even understand half of them himself, but he couldn't stop the pleas and the curses from spilling out.

"Harder, oh Gods, harder!" One second, then: "Oh Ned, ow, oh ow, stop! Please!" Then back to: "Fuck me! Oh gods, Ned, fuck me!"

Eddard could feel his cock begin to tremble, to tingle and throb in a way that meant he was seconds away. "You like this?" he heard himself asking. Petyr didn't answer with words. Ned grabbed the man by the hair and pulled his head up so Ned's breathy panting was a hot tickle on Petyr's ear. "I asked if you liked that, getting taken like this."

Petyr whimpered.

"You like belonging to me, is that it?" Ned asked, his cock doing the talking for him as it approached its climax. When Petyr again only replied with a shrill moan, Ned reached around and began stroking Littlefinger's cock in swift, brutal tugs. Petyr finally cried out:

"Yes! Yes...please..." until both men's pleasure poured from their cocks, Petyr's onto the sheets beneath him and Ned's into Petyr's sore ass. They panted in silence a moment before Ned gently removed himself from the smaller man and positioned himself behind him, holding Petyr to his chest as they collected themselves. Ned nuzzled into Petyr's neck, kissing his ear while Littlefinger had seemed to collapse, eyes shut and head spinning. Ned held him until he turned around and faced him. The two smiled sheepishly before Littlefinger actually burst out laughing. Ned grinned.

"What is it?" he asked, tussling Petyr's hair.

Littlefinger reclined, arms behind his head and that sneer returned to his goatee'd mouth. "Oh nothing. This just means it's my turn next time."

Ned traced a finger down Petyr's chest and gave his nipple a teasing pinch. "Oh, so there'll be a next time, will there?"

Petyr nodded and took Ned's finger, sucking it softly before replying: "Lord Stark. With you, there will always be a next time."

THE END


End file.
